


My Big Dark Love

by Exaggerated_Specificity



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Kink, Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Coming Untouched, Demon Cure, Demon Dean, Demon Dean Winchester, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, M/M, Oral Sex, Scent Kink, Sibling Incest, Unrequited Lust, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 04:22:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6359143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exaggerated_Specificity/pseuds/Exaggerated_Specificity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for SPN Spring Fling 2016. The prompt I used was "<i>You look good in red</i>." Originally posted <a href="http://spnspringfling.livejournal.com/144233.html">HERE</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Big Dark Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lightinthehall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightinthehall/gifts).



> I also created a playlist for this fic on Spotify [HERE](https://open.spotify.com/user/gojyochan/playlist/1nkCdgAAV6aCYtQU6gD1CD). Posted on Tumblr [HERE](http://exaggeratedspecificity.tumblr.com/post/141934155283/my-big-dark-love-by-exaggeratedspecificity). Title is from Big Dark Love by Murder By Death.

Getting Dean to the bunker wasn’t as difficult as Sam initially anticipated. The Devil’s Trap handcuffs did their job well enough and he had plenty of recent practice subduing demons to keep the twisted thing that used to be his brother in check. In the time since Dean disappeared Sam had killed more of Crowley’s minions than he could count, filleting even low-level demons for leads, injured arm and all. He was ready. He was strong. He was going to fix Dean, even if he didn’t want fixing.

The taunts Dean threw at him in the car were relatively easy to ignore. Sam’s single minded focus allowed the hateful, burning words to wash over him like his skin was made of Teflon. It got more complicated once they were inside, deep in the bunker’s heart, Dean strapped to a chair in the dungeon that still reeked of Crowley’s sweat.

Sam felt incredibly vulnerable now that Dean was here, in the place that was the closest they’d ever had to a home. His nerve endings were raw and the hair on the back of his neck bristled thinking of the snarling, black-eyed version of Dean he had chained up in the other room. Not _his_ Dean. Not anymore. Sam could get him back though, he just had to stay strong. He gulps back the tears burning his throat and splashes cold water on his face before setting to the task at hand. 

His fingers tremble as he ties off his good arm and slides in the first needle. He goes slowly, drawing ten syringes of his own blood, lining them up neatly on the shiny stainless steel tray. His blood looks black in the low light, not red-brown like the stuff still dried into the creases of his knuckles. Not coppery-crimson like the light filtered through his eyelids when he presses his fingertips into to the soft skin covering his tired eyes when he’s finished. 

The last time Sam attempted this it nearly cost him his life.

~

When Dean sees the tray of syringes in Sam’s hand he begins fighting fiercely against his restraints again, the demon-trap steel and rough jute rope Sam added as back-up digging welts into his wrists.

"You sure you wanna do that, Sam? Taint all this thick, powerful demon blood with your pathetic, watered down human brand?” Dean sneers, vibrant green eyes locked on Sam, his gaze both angry and desperate. “We both know how much you love the good stuff. How it makes you feel. How fucking hard you get.” The words rumble in Dean’s throat like the thunder of an oncoming storm. 

Sam ignores it, Latin flowing off his tongue with practiced ease as he opens the silver flask. He avoids his brother’s piercing stare as he splashes holy water on the floor inside the devil’s trap.

“You think I didn't see that fat cock chubbing up in your jeans when your chin was dripping with it? Come on, Sammy. You know you want a taste. You look good in red." Dean’s eyes are still glittering green in the low light, burning ferocious and dangerous as his tongue traces lewdly over his bottom lip.

Sam clenches his jaw as he turns away, putting the empty flask back on the table before taking the first syringe in hand. He readies his thumb on the plunger, pivots on his heel, and crosses to Dean’s side in a swift, fluid motion. He slams the needle home without a word, right above the swollen, angry-red mark marring Dean’s smooth inner arm. 

The howl that escapes Dean’s throat is otherworldly. He snarls at Sam through his teeth, hurling a hideous litany of garbled curses as Sam’s blood spreads through him. Sam crosses back over to the table holding his supplies, bracing his hands against the edge and taking a series of deep breaths to steady himself. This was nothing. He’d nearly cured Crowley. He could do this.

Dean’s angry growls slowly diminish, fading to a gruesome, almost lusty groan. “Mmmm, Sammy. God, you know what? I can feel you inside me…” 

Sam’s eyes flicker over to Dean. His sultry, spit-slick mouth curves up into a wicked smile and his eyes flash black like patent leather.

“It’s what you always wanted. Isn’t it, Sammy...? You wanna fill me up, make me yours. Don’t you, little bro?”

Sam’s mouth falls open slightly but whatever protests he has in him evaporate on his tongue. Dean’s black-as-pitch eyes bore into his very soul, burning away all the lies, piercing right into truth at the core of Sam’s very being. It was true, he wanted Dean: mind, body, and soul. Dean was the only one he could ever truly love and Sam loved him in every sense of the word. Dean was the only one he would ever want. And the one he could never have.

Dean’s head tips back and a hateful cackle ripples out of his throat, the laugh to end all laughs, reverberating in the small dungeon. Sam swears he can feel it bouncing against his skin. He squeezes his fist around the next syringe.

“Look, we got a whole bunch more of these to go,” Sam grits out, his voice shakier than he wants it to be. “You could make it a lot easier on yourself if you just shut the fuck up.” 

Sam injects him again, pulling the needle out swiftly, taking a step back and studying his brother’s face as it twists, his eyes black as the void. Dean’s forearm flexes against its bonds and a thick drop of ruby red oozes from the fresh needle mark. It glistens, drawing Sam’s eye. That bright red drop, their blood mingled together, seeping back out like Dean’s body is rejecting it. It’s the same crimson as the velvet curtains of the confessional Sam stepped into to absolve himself for this very purpose. Despite the priest’s blessing Sam feels every impure thought he’s ever had surge through him, reaching out for Dean. 

"You're broken, Sammy. You're as twisted inside as me. I know it. I've always known.” Dean’s tone softens, his voice a low rumble. “The way you look at me, kiddo, the way you’ve always looked at me. Think I don't know what goes on in that big, fucked up brain of yours?"

Sam chucks the empty syringe next to the others and picks up the next, the third. He jams it into Dean’s other arm, eyes slipping shut as he depresses the plunger. This time he doesn’t pull the needle out, just leaves his fist there, resting against the burning hot skin of Dean’s forearm. Dean groans as Sam’s blood spreads through him.

"I'm tired, Dean. I've - I've lasted so long like this but...” Sam stutters, aching inside and out. “I don't. I can't…"

"I know, Sammy. Believe me, I know."

Sam's shaking, his eyes squeezed shut, his hand around the syringe so tight his fingers are going numb. His thumb is on the plunger still, the chamber empty, the needle still buried in Dean's arm to the hilt. It would be so easy... So, so easy to move his thumb, pull the plunger back the other way. 

"Don't use the needle, Sammy," Dean says, like he’s reading Sam’s mind. "It's so... Impersonal. Here, just -" Dean tilts his head back, exposing his neck to Sam. 

Sam can't look away. There's sweat beading on Dean's throat, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows with unmistakable lust. Sam can see the pale curve of Dean's collarbone peeking out from the neck of his shirt and, damn it to hell, his mouth is practically watering for it. 

" _Sam_ ," Dean says. It’s almost a plea, sounding enough like _his_ Dean again to make Sam's breath catch in his throat. "You can have everything. We can be together. The way you always wanted.”

Sam can't help the little sob that escapes his throat as he slowly pulls the needle out of Dean's arm. 

“The way we _both_ always wanted, Sam. Just untie me and I'm yours. All of me."

Sam’s breath rattles in his lungs as he sinks to his knees on the hard concrete. He can smell Dean's sweat, the coppery tang of blood. Tears stream down Sam's face as he brings the needle close and licks it clean, hating himself.

It’s quiet for a moment, the sound of their breathing almost a comfort. Almost like they’re in some nameless hotel, sleeping mere feet apart, back when things were so much simpler. Maybe the blood is working, maybe Dean is getting better.

“Blood doesn't make good lube, Sammy. You got somethin’ better? Somethin’ to slick me up. Come on baby boy, we both want it. Untie me, get me over that table and – ” 

The way Sam’s mouth crashes against Dean’s isn’t love, it’s violence. A lifetime of repressed need, years of anguish and sacrifice chased into Dean’s burning mouth, the coppery richness of Dean’s split lip seeping into the kiss, making Sam groan as he sucks at his brother’s tongue. 

The forgotten syringe skitters across the floor as Sam’s good hand slides up into the side of Dean’s hair, slipping through his sweat as he feeds from his mouth. He’ll lick his fingertips clean later, close his eyes and let his tongue melt the salt from each one, imagining it was crimson.

Dean’s hard too, Sam can feel the swelling heat of it through their clothes, the hard curve of his brother’s cock grazing just below his sternum. His hand rakes down Dean’s chest of its own volition, Sam breaking their kiss to get his eyes on Dean’s zipper, to help his shaking hand pull Dean’s dick through the slit in his boxers. 

The pungent odor of Dean’s cock fills Sam’s nostrils as he kisses him again, his mouth watering. The kiss is a too-rough mess as he gets his hand around the shaft and starts to stroke. 

“All these years and I finally figured out what’ll shut you up,” Sam pants, resting rests his head against Dean’s shoulder so he can watch his hand working, watch precome beading up in Dean’s slit. 

“I’m a helluva lot more fun when I can participate, Sammy. Get me outta these,” Dean huffs as he tugs against his bonds, the muscles in his chest and shoulders tightening under the press of Sam’s body. 

Sam answers by wrapping his lips around the head of Dean’s cock, groaning as he gulps around it, taking him as deep as he can. 

“Oh, fuck, Sam…” 

He longs to feel Dean’s hands tangle in his hair, aches to have Dean spread out on his bed so he can lick out every crevice, but Sam knows this is all he can have. He knows taking it makes every word Dean says true. He’s a sick fuck, slurping down his big brother’s dirty cock like it tastes of ambrosia, humping into the seam of his own jeans until the head of his dick is a raw, dripping mess.

He uses his thumb to massage at Dean’s balls through his jeans, mapping every ridge and vein of Dean’s erection with his tongue until his jaw is aching and his eyes are watering. Dean’s whimpering, groaning, even growling a little as Sam pulls the orgasm from him. It’s not too far off from the sounds he made as Sam’s blood spread through his veins. 

As Dean’s bitter come erupts in his mouth, Sam wonders if he’ll feel differently after he’s got a belly full, wonders if he’ll get just a little high off Dean’s demon seed. He wonders how long he’ll be able to hold on to the taste of his brother’s spunk on his tongue once he’s sucked it all down. 

Sam pulls off more quickly than he’d like but allows himself a moment to press his cheek against Dean’s jean-clad thigh just to breathe him in. Right then, in that quiet moment where Dean’s smell, his taste, his heat, is all around Sam, he can almost let himself believe that everything is going to be okay between them after this.

“Wait, Sammy – what? Wait, no. Sam! Sam I told you, just let me go. There’s much more where that came from, I promise. Don’t you even want me to help you finish?” The panic in Dean’s tone is more satisfying that Sam wants it to be. 

He licks his lips and picks up the next syringe, wiping his mouth off on the back of his hand before plunging the needle into Dean’s arm. 

“Did finish, Dean. Now, let’s get this over with.”


End file.
